He scowls and grabs his phone, opening his notes app. “What’s the name then?”
“Wait, you really want to read the next one?”
“How else will I find out if she’s dead or alive?”
“It’s a romance—she’ll live. Romance novels don’t have bad endings.”
He looks confused. “Never?”
“No, or it wouldn’t be considered a romance.”
“Not all relationships end well.” He’s so deadpan, I laugh.
“Most people don’t want to read about shitty relationships and failed marriages. Romances are meant to make you happy and dream. I’d pick a different genre if I wanted reality.”
He ponders for a minute. “Maybe that’s true, but what if all it’s doing is filling your head with delusional ideas of the opposite sex?”
“It is. But it’s also giving you hope that you’ll find what you’re looking for someday with fantasies along the way.”
“The only thing that gave me was a way to pass the time and a few new phrases for the bedroom.” He says seductively.
“So you didn’t take away anything on how to treat a woman out of it? Shocking. On that note, it’s time to go.” I jerk my head to the people exiting their seats in front of us.
He hands me his phone. “Here, type the name of the book whileI get your bag. And feel free to leave your number. I’d love to test those phrases out, and you seemed pretty into them when we were reading.”
Asshole. He just had to go there again. I should be flattered that he won’t give up, but guys like him are like this with anything on two legs.
I enter the author’s name and book title, but instead of leaving my name or number, I add a short message. He sets my backpack on his vacated seat and reaches for his phone. I quickly close the notes app before handing it over with a smile. He can look at it later.
“You put the name in there?”
“Yep. If you follow the author online, you’ll get an email when the sequel comes out.”
“Cool, thanks.”
I still can’t believe he wants to read the next one. It’s kind of cute. If he weren’t such a douchebag, I’d be interested. But I can’t get past those terrible pickup lines he started with. Only one type of guy behaves that way, and that’s certainly not the type for me.
He stands where he is, letting me go in front of him. He’s probably checking out my ass down the aisle. When we leave the jetway and enter the terminal, he stays with me while we walk toward the exit. I’m not sure how to lose him.
“All right, I’ve got it—if you’re not a teacher or a librarian, you must be an astronaut because your ass is out of this world.”
I groan, making him laugh. “I knew that’s why you let me go ahead. You’re too much.”
“I’m growing on you, admit it, Mouse.” His head cocks accompanied by a smile.
I shake my head with a huff. “The only thing you’re growing on is my nerves.”
“Listen, I know you’re busy, but if you do have any time, I’d love to see you while you’re here.”
Hmmm. That’s the most normal, nonsexual way he’s asked. But too little, too late, so the joke’s on him. Plus, it’s a moot point, since I really am too busy.
“Like I said, I’m tied up this trip.”
He releases a low growl. “Fuck, baby. You can’t say things like that. I’m gonna have visions of you tied to my bed all night.”
Unbelievable.
I stop in my tracks and face him right before we go through the doors to the baggage area. “Look, this was… interesting. I’m sure you’ll survive being turned down for what must be the first time in your life and shift your efforts to the next girl. You might want to attempt an actual conversation with a woman someday. I’d wish you luck if I didn’t feel sorry for whoever falls for your crap.”
